Little Scamps
by MissFeral
Summary: Dennis Mitchell is in trouble, as usual. Always trying to do a good deed, the boy just can't seem to stay out of trouble.


Dennis sighed as he sat on the curb in front of his house. He put his head in his hands and thought about how angry he had caused Mr. Wilson to become. Earlier this morning, Dennis wandered into his neighbor's yard to play. He found Mr. Wilson painting his house, standing on a ladder to reach the high spots. Dennis begged Mr. Wilson to let him help, but the older man just grumbled something about him being a jinx and tried to ignore him. But Dennis was persistent. He opened a can of paint, grabbed a spare brush, and began slopping paint on a low part of the house. Mr. Wilson soon noticed this and barked at him to stop, almost falling off the ladder in the process.

Dennis put the brush down and tried to put the lid back on the can of paint that he had opened. He told Mr. Wilson that he couldn't close the paint can. Mr. Wilson got down from the ladder and while he proceeded to seal up the extra can, Dennis snuck up the ladder and started painting the house, using the same paint and brush that Mr. Wilson had been using moments before. Mr. Wilson gasped when he looked up and saw the boy ruining his paint job; he yelled for him to stop immediately. This startled Dennis and caused him to drop the paint can. The can fell right on Mr. Wilson's head and got stuck! The frightened Dennis hurried down from the ladder and ran home as fast as he could. He knew that Mr. Wilson would be coming over to complain to his parents as soon as he got the can off his head and took a bath to wash off the paint. So now Dennis sat quietly, waiting for the inevitable.

"Hi, Dennis!" said a voice.

Dennis glanced up and saw his friends, Tommy and Seymour.

"Hi!" Dennis smiled and stood up.

"Do you want to come to the park with us?" asked Tommy.

"I can't," Dennis explained, "I'm in trouble with Mr. Wilson. He spilled paint all over himself and got the can stuck on his head."

"Wow, he sure is stupid," said Seymour.

"It was all my fault," Dennis continued.

"What do you think he'll do to you?" asked Tommy.

"Well, I figure that after he gets the can off his head and washes the paint off himself, he'll come over here to talk to my dad."

"Do you want me and Seymour to stay with you?" offered Tommy, kindly.

"That's okay," Dennis assured him, "I'll be fine. Mr. Wilson gets awful grumpy sometimes but he gets over it."

"Why do you suppose Mr. Wilson is grouchy so much?" Tommy asked.

"I think it's because he's so fat," said Seymour.

Dennis shook his head. "No, Seymour. Mr. Wilson is just grouchy because of all the bad luck he has. Poor old Mr. Wilson…I wish there was some way to cheer him up."

"Maybe you could buy him a present," Tommy suggested.

Dennis checked his pockets and fished out a couple of pennies. "I only have two cents," he said, sadly. "I don't know if I could buy him anything with that. Do you have any money, Tommy?"

"None," Tommy said with a shrug. "How about you, Seymour?"

"I'm not spending my money on fat old Mr. Wilson," Seymour said.

"We have to do something to help him," Dennis said, scratching his head in thought.

Tommy bit his lip, thinking. "Hey, maybe we could tell him a joke. Ya know, make him laugh."

"That's it, Tommy!" Dennis said, grinning.

"What's it?"

"I just got a really great idea," Dennis said, proudly. He whispered his plan to Tommy and Seymour. Then the three boys went off to find Mr. Wilson.

"Helloooo Mr. Wilson!"

They caught up to Mr. Wilson just as he was coming out of his house. The man groaned and rolled his eyes when the three little scamps surrounded him. He wasn't in the mood to be bothered.

"Now boys, I don't have time to play. I'm going straight to Dennis's house and tell his father what he did!"

"Please don't tell my dad, Mr. Wilson!" Dennis pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Dennis. But you have to learn not to go around dropping paint cans on people's heads."

"Don't be mad, Mr. Wilson," Dennis said with a smile. "Tommy, Seymour, and me are here to cheer you up!"

Mr. Wilson rolled his eyes. "Dennis, you can cheer me up by _going away!"_

"That's not exactly what we had in mind, Mr. Wilson," said Tommy.

"Yeah, we came here to tickle you," said Dennis.

Mr. Wilson's eyes widened. "T-Tickle? Why, I never heard of anything so ridiculous! I-I don't want to be tickled. Now, kindly get out of my way!" With that, he brushed past the boys and walked toward Dennis's house.

"What do we do now, Dennis?" asked Tommy.

Dennis folded his little arms and frowned. "I'm not giving up. We'll wait right here until Mr. Wilson comes back. And then we'll get him. We'll tickle him and cheer him up!"

"I don't think he's gonna like it, Dennis."

"Sure he will! You'll see...Good old Mr. Wilson is going to have the biggest smile he ever had."

"I think we should tie him up," Seymour said, "so he can't run away."

"Good thinking, Seymour!" Dennis said, happily. "I think I know where we can get some ropes. Let's go!"

 _Meanwhile…_

"You just have to do something about that boy of yours!" Mr. Wilson complained to Dennis's parents, Henry and Alice.

"I'm awful sorry about the paint, Mr. Wilson," said Henry.

"He'll be punished as soon as he gets home," said Alice.

"Well, see that he is!"

Satisfied, Mr. Wilson left the Mitchell household and returned home. He walked into his living room and yawned. He was feeling a bit sleepy so he decided to take a nap. He opened a window for some fresh air and then lay down on the couch. In a few minutes, Mr. Wilson was asleep.

 _Meanwhile…_

Dennis, Tommy, and Seymour borrowed a bunch of jump ropes from Margaret's house.

They sneaked into Mr. Wilson's living room through the open window.

"He snores loud," said Seymour.

"Be quiet, Seymour!" Dennis scolded, "Do you want to wake him up? Come on, let's tie him up quick."

The boys tied up the sleeping Mr. Wilson with the jump ropes. They lashed his feet to the foot of the couch and tied his hands over his head. Then Dennis made sure the knots were good and tight.

Mr. Wilson stayed asleep the whole time.

"Let's wake him up now," whispered Tommy.

"Okay," said Dennis. And with that, he began poking Mr. Wilson's nose.

"Huh? What? Who's there?"

"Open your eyes, Mr. Wilson! It's me!"

"Great Scott! Dennis, what are you doing in my house?" Mr. Wilson tried to sit up but quickly realized that he was tied down. He couldn't move his arms or legs. He was shocked.

"Surprise, Mr. Wilson!"

"Dennis Mitchell! You and your little scallywags better untie me right this instant!"

"No way," said Tommy.

"We're here to put a smile back on your face, Mr. Wilson! Cause you're my best friend!" Dennis said, beaming.

"Great Scott!" Mr. Wilson said again. "What are you going to do to me?"

"We're just going to tickle you," Dennis said, "Won't that be fun, Mr. Wilson?"

"No! No, no, I don't want that! Help! Martha!"

"She's not here," Dennis said, "she went shopping. That means we get to stay here all afternoon until she gets back!"

"I can't wait to see you suffer," said Seymour.

Mr. Wilson struggled to free himself but his attempts were futile. His body was completely vulnerable and at the mercy of three mischievous youngsters.

Dennis positioned himself over Mr. Wilson's midsection and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Now wait a minute, Dennis! You can't tickle me like this. Can't you untie me first? At least give me a chance to defend myself!"

"Sorry, Mr. Wilson," came the reply. "But we can't let you get away. You need to laugh more and be happy. We don't want to see you being grumpy all the time.

"Dennis, please! This isn't fair!"

The blond boy ignored his neighbor's pleas and opened his shirt to reveal a smooth, pale, bare belly

"You have a fat stomach," said Seymour.

Mr. Wilson was too nervous now to pay any mind to that insult. He continued pleading as Dennis reached into his pocket and pulled out a white feather.

"Oh, please, don't touch my stomach with that feather. I won't be able to stand it! Dennis, please, I thought we were friends!" Mr. Wilson blubbered.

Dennis grinned and lowered the feather to Mr. Wilson's belly. "We _are_ friends. That's why I want you to be happy."

Mr. Wilson tried not to laugh but it was no use. As soon as that feather started to dust his bare stomach, he threw back his head and laughed like a maniac. Dennis began laughing too.

"That a boy, Mr. Wilson! Let it all out. I knew you were gonna love this!"

"Keep tickling him, Dennis," Tommy said, excitedly. "Me and Seymour will get his feet."

"NOO PLEASE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!" Mr. Wilson howled, struggling with all his strength.

Tommy and Seymour ran to the man's restrained feet. They yanked off his shoes and socks and began tickling his smooth bare feet.

Mr. Wilson screamed and laughed even harder than before. This was the worst tickling he had ever been put through. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"C-CUT IT OUT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! OOOOHH I CAN'T STAND IT!"

"You sure are ticklish, Mr. Wilson," said Dennis, as he swirled the feather all over Mr. Wilson's tummy and dipped it into his bellybutton.

Tommy and Seymour took some dental floss and tied his big toes together to limit movement. They scribbled their fingers on his soles and under his toes. They didn't stop for a second. Poor old Mr. Wilson never laughed so hard in his life.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HOOOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHO! PLEEEEEASE HAVE MERCY!"

"You sure look happy now!" giggled Dennis, now using his index finger to swirl around in Mr. Wilson's bellybutton.

Mr. Wilson's face was bright red and beaded with sweat. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His ribs and sides ached from laughing so hard. His desperate struggling had caused the ropes to tighten and burn into his skin. The pain was agonizing. But since he was laughing, Dennis assumed that he was having fun.

"PLEASE STOOOOOOP! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! YOU'RE KILLING ME! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IT TICKLES SOOOO MUCH! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Mr. Wilson screamed.

The boys kept on tickling him until they noticed a dark, wet blotch forming between his legs.

"Oh, gross! He peed!" Tommy exclaimed.

Seymour grimaced. "Ewww…he's disgusting."

Dennis quickly untied his unfortunate neighbor and went to grab a towel.

"Here you go, Mr. Wilson," Dennis said, handing him the towel. "Sorry we made you wet yourself."

Embarrassed beyond belief, Mr. Wilson snatched the towel and pointed to the door. "OUT! Get out…of my house…this instant." He was exhausted and trying to catch his breath.

"Okay, Mr. Wilson. I hope you feel happy and cheerful now!"

"OUT!"

"Okay. Come on, Tommy. Come on, Seymour. Let's go." With that, Dennis and Tommy left the house, but Seymour stayed a moment longer to stare at Mr. Wilson.

"Well, what are _you_ looking at?"

"You're a gross man," said Seymour, then he turned and left the house.

Mr. Wilson squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. Today was just not his day. He dried up the mess he had made on his pants and the couch, and then ran to get his nerve medicine.

The End


End file.
